Although?Skye’s father’s tower house was most comfortable and very well?furnished, the MacWilliam’s large castle was lavish by comparison.
There were four O’Flahertys partaking of their overlord’s gen-?erosity. Dom’s father, Gilladubh, and his younger sister, Claire, had?come with Dom and Skye. Skye frankly hoped that they could find?a husband for Claire O’Flaherty, though neither Claire’s father nor?her brother seemed to realize that, at fourteen, Claire was practically?an old maid.
The girl was pretty enough, with thick, flaxen braids, Dom’s?pale-blue eyes, and a pink-cheeked complexion. But there was some-?thing sly about her, something Skye did not like. On the one or two?occasions Skye had attempted to correct the girl for minor faults,?Claire had complained to both her father and her brother, and Skye? had been told to leave her be. Behind the doting men’s backs, Claire?had smiled smugly at her sister-in-law. But Skye had had some?measure of revenge when she caught Claire helping herself to Skye’s?jewelry. Boxing the girl’s ears soundly-which gave Skye great?pleasure-she warned her that if she stole again she would have?Claire’s head shaved.
“And if you complain to either Dom or your father,
Claire O’Flaherty needed no further warning. The fierce look in?Skye’s eye convinced her that her brother’s wife was not the soft?fool she had originally thought she was. From that moment on the?two women maintained a wary truce. Now Skye was determined to?marry the girl off as quickly as possible, to get her out of her house.
Skye had known that Niall would be at the Christmas gathering.
She soon learned that he was to be their host, as his father was?suffering with gout. If Niall expected to find her heartbroken, she?would soon disabuse him of that notion. In the six months since?Dom had taken her from St. Bride’s she had made a kind of peace?with herself. She did not love her husband nor did she ever believe?she would, but she played the obedient wife.
Her mother-in-law was long dead, and the running of the?O’Flaherty household was left entirely in her hands. Claire seemed?not to care, or even have the necessary knowledge. Skye did her job?well, which pleased her father- in-law. Gilladubh O’Flaherty was an?older version of Dom, a pompous lecher with a penchant for fine?wines and good whiskey. Skye soon learned to avoid his quick?hands, once going so far as to brandish a candlestick at him and?threaten to expose his outrageous behavior.
Sitting on the MacWilliam’s fine guest bed in her petticoats and?beribboned busk, she brushed her hair with angry, vicious strokes.?Tonight Skye O’Malley would be as beautiful as she could make?herself, and she would hold her head up before the arrogant Burkes?and O’Neills. It was her good fortune to own a more magnificent?wardrobe than most women did, for her father had always delighted?in showing off her beauty.
Mag, her tiring woman, brought her gown and laid it carefully?across the foot of the bed. She held a small round mirror for her?mistress, and Skye skillfully outlined her eyes with kohl and put just?the tiniest bit of red to her cheeks, giving her fair skin a faint, healthy?blush. Her shining dark hair was smoothly parted in the center,?carefully tucked into dainty gold wire cauls, then pinned on either?side of her head. Lastly Skye applied to the deep valley between her?breasts, to her wrists, to the base of her throat, and to the back and?sides of her neck, a rare perfume made especially for her of musk?and attar of roses. Let him smell the scent of roses on her! Let him? remember, and know she cared not!
Skye stood up, and Mag hurried to help her mistress into her?gown. The tiring woman quickly laced the dress and then stood back?to survey her lady. A toothless smile split her weathered face. “Aye,?you’ll break his fickle heart, my lady! One look at you in this gown,?and he’ll wish he’d stood up to that old devil, his father!”
“Is Lady Burke so displeasing to the eye then, Mag?” asked Skye?with feigned disinterest.
Mag cackled with laughter, and hugged herself. “Nay, lady, she’s?pretty enough. It’s just that you’re so wickedly fair.”
Skye smiled a little cat’s smile. “Get my jewel case, you old?crone!” she ordered affectionately and, when the woman hurried to?obey, snatched up the mirror. Holding it away from herself, she studied her reflection. The gown of deep-blue velvet
Mag held open the jewel case and Skye lifted out a sapphire?necklace, the large square stones interspersed with round gold me-?dallions, twelve in all, each representing a sign of the zodiac. At?the bottom of the necklace a large pink pearl teardrop hung pro-?vocatively between her breasts. There were sapphires in her ears and?she wore three rings, a sapphire, an emerald, and a large baroque?pearl.
Dom strode into the room and asked jealously, “Are you dressing?to please Niall Burke, Skye?”
“Rather to please you, my lord,” she said smoothly, “but if my?gown displeases you I will change to whatever gives you pleasure.”
He eyed her carefully. He knew there wouldn’t be a woman at?tonight’s banquet to compare with her. She would be the fairest?creature in the hall. And she belonged to him! He would be the envy?of every man there. Roughly he pulled her into his arms and buried?his face in the warm scented cleft between her breasts.
“Don’t!” Her voice was sharp. Familiarity had removed her fear?of him, and now only a veiled contempt remained. “Don’t, Dom.?You’ll put me in disarray.” He stepped away from her. “How handsome you look,” she quickly noted. “Your sky-blue velvet goes quite?well with my deep blue.”
“Day and midnight,” he said, offering her his arm.
She laughed. “Careful, my lord, you verge on the poetical. Your?fine Paris education may have not gone for nought after all.”
The banquet hall of the MacWilliam’s castle was a great room?with heavy beamed ceilings and four fireplaces. They blazed now?with giant-sized logs. Tall narrow windows gave views of the snow-?covered countryside, the plainness of the hills and fields broken at?intervals by large stands of black, bare trees. To the west the hills?were stained orange-red with the sunset. The room was crowded?with elegantly dressed guests. Servants scurried to and fro with trays?of wine, amid a low steady hum of voices.
As they entered the hall the majordomo announced them and Skye?felt the eyes of the entire room on them. The story of her wedding?night was yet spoken of throughout the district, and now the nobility of Mid-Connaught watched to see the first meeting of the O’Flahertys?and the Burkes since that fateful day of last May. The gossips had?to admit that Skye and Dom were an outrageously handsome couple.
Skye and Dom moved with a stately slow pace as they proceeded?down the length of the hall to greet their host and hostess, Niall and?Darragh. Skye kept her head high, her face expressionless, her glance?at a point just above the top of Niall’s head. For a brief instant she?gave in to her curiosity and glanced at his face. His silver-gray eyes?were ice, and sent a wave of bitter coldness sweeping over her to?penetrate the very core of her heart.
She was puzzled. She had expected a smug smile, certainly not?this disdain. She was discomfited by his attitude, but a quick glimpse?of the tiny woman at his side restored her confidence. She felt joy?surge through her with the knowledge that Darragh Burke was, for?all her noble breeding, no beauty.
They had reached the dais now, and Skye looked past Niall and?his wife to where the MacWilliam sat, his painful leg cushioned?upon a stool. She flashed Niall’s father a brilliant smile, her even?little teeth almost blinding in their whiteness. The old man let his?glance sweep over her, and it gave her great pleasure to see the?regret in his eyes. Now they both knew that he had made a mistake.?She swept him a graceful curtsey. “My lord.”
It amused him to realize how quickly she had read his thoughts.?He enjoyed a worthy adversary, and she would make one. If he had?been twenty years younger he would have made an attempt to bed?her himself. “My friend, Gilly O’Flaherty, tells me you’re a good?wife to his boy,” growled the MacWilliam.
“I am,” she answered him coolly.
“I thought you were happiest being a pirate wench.”
“I am that too, when I can, my lord.”
“And are you good at that too, Lady O’Flaherty?”
“I’m good at whatever I set my mind to, my lord.”
He chuckled. “Welcome to you, and to your husband,” and then?his eyes crinkled wickedly. “Undoubtedly you both remember my?son. Niall.”
She felt Dom stiffen beside her, and she squeezed his hand re-?assuringly. They would not even acknowledge
